Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers

Falling leaves

(povest)

Traslated by author

Any commercial use of the povest Holder Volcano "Falling leaves" prohibited without the prior written consent of the author.(Holder Volcano)

1 Chapter

Spring fields

Spring. Birds singing in the high poplars at field mill, where the white blossomed acacia. Recently, among the thorny branches of acacia could see a nest of magpies, and now it disappeared from sight among the leaves and flowering bunches of the tree. Magpies are very smart birds. They know that boys can't climb a tree, whose thorny branches, as its sharp spiny thorns may hurt to scratch his hands and feet and even to break them harem pants. Acacia flowers have captured the soul like Souvenirs made from pieces of white porcelain. The pleasant smell of these bunches winds spread across the field where farmers work.Khurshida worked, knocking hoe on the rocky field. It was a girl of eighteen, fair-skinned, with a dense and gentle curly dark brown hair, with a slender figure and magnificent Breasts, with hazel eyes, and clear eyes. She is so beautiful smiling coral lips, showing white healthy and beautiful teeth, that a lot of guys in the village were crazy about her. But Khurshida did not pay attention to either one of them, as she felt for him the tender feelings called love. His indifference she has increased "oppression" on the lovers. She didn't even answer your love letters that boys wrote and passed her through her friends.

Khurshida"s father Abduljabbar very strict towards his daughter Khurshida and his difficult character and behavior more like a stepfather than her own father. He often drinks alcohol and satisfied with drunken fights. But Jabbar is a good specialist in the field of sheep shearing. He works as a mechanic on a cattle farm. Repairs on the farm milking machines, automatic drinking bowls, conveyors, cleaning barns, combines, forage shredders and so on.

Although Jabbar is not a religious fanatic, but he strictly prohibits Khurshida to go to parties dedicated to the birthday of her classmates, which was attended by boys. Abduljabbar swore that if his daughter Khurshida will disgrace their family, he will curse. So mother of Khurshida Raheela every day insisted that she did not play with fire and was cautious in communication with her classmates and other unknown guys, Raheela knows that the class of her daughter, not all girls are friendly with Khurshida. That is, some girls are jealous of Khurshida and look at her with despise, because she's pretty and many guys were in love her but not with them.

With these thoughts in mind, Khurshida continued to work on the field, leveling soil for planting cotton. She loves to work in the fields alone, as nobody bothers to think about what she wants to think. Loneliness for her freedom like the boundless sky. Sometimes Khurshida stops, to straighten her back, listening to the distant of a sad voice of an alone hoopoe, which comes from willow grove, where the wind wanders drunk. There, in the distance, a willow grove, a cotton field, she saw an alone tractor that silently glided over the field like a ship on the surface of a green sea of cotton.Khurshida thoughtfully watched agile low flying swallows. They flew over the fields, almost touching the ground, and its white belly and wings similar to bent black daggers with sharp blades. Then again she set to work, humming a sad song about love. And the sun slowly but surely rose to the tip of the sky. Khurshida worked on the field under the scorching sun and stopped work only when on the hill, the cook Tubo shouting the beginning to entice people for lunch.

-Choygaaaaaaaaa! - she cried, and her voice flew over the spring fields, like a bird freed from its chest.

Leaving the hoe on the edge of the field, Khurshida went to the side of the field mill. Approaching her, she smelled a delicate sweet smell fragrant acacia which bloomed near the field camp, which grew tall poplars and weeping willows. At this point, of the cultivator, which stopped near a field camp, jumped a young tractor driver of about twenty to twenty five, in a worn skullcap, tall, broad-shouldered, snub-nosed, with curly hair, with a mustache above fleshy lips. A peculiarity of this guy in his green scar on the left eyebrow. It gave him the appearance of harshness and masculinity. His appearance resembled a Roman Gladiator who fought with his bare hands with hungry tigers. Khurshida had not seen this tractor driver in these parts, but I just remembered his tractor, which she just watched from afar in the cotton field. While Khurshida was removed from the branches of the mulberry tree a small pouch in which was bread, sugar, welding, aluminum spoon, and a mug with a bowl, the tractor driver was already standing in the queue at the field tin samovar, where workers were poured theirself a Cup of boiling water. Taking her mug, Khurshida poured her the tea and also got in line. Seeing her, the guy turned to look and gave up his place. Not expecting such a gentleman, Khurshida thanked the young tractor driver and kindly smiled. After a few minutes the guy started to talk to her: - Girl, let me tell you an amazing story while we stand in line. In short, yesterday I go past this tree - beauty!- from the white acacia flowers that you can"t stop looking at. The acacia blooming was like a young bride in a white wedding dress! I stopped involuntarily admiring the unusual beauty of this tree, looking at it with delight, like a farmer who came from a distant village with a bag on his shoulders, who first saw the city. Then there was gunfire. I thoughlt, there was a terrorist shooting at me from the machine gun. I quickly lay down on the ground, so he couldn"t fire the whole clip at me. I layed down for a while, and I look, and there's a singing magpi. Well, I felt ashamed about myself. Stood up, looked around, found my dirty skullcap, shook off the dust, jammed it on my head and went on. It"s a good thing nobody but me saw it.

After hearing the story of the tractor driver, everybody having lunch amicably laughed.Khurshida too. Then came their turn. But, unfortunately, boiling water ceased to flow from the samovar's tap. It turned out that the cause was the fact that in the samovar boiling water level dropped below the level of the faucet, so it stopped showering. But the tractor driver found a way out: he asked Khurshida to bend the samovar and pour the boiling water into a mug, which he set up.

- Okay - agreed Khurshida and when the young tractor driver framed his mug to the tap of the samovar, Khurshida gently bent the samovar. But then disaster struck: Khurshida accidentally dropped the samovar, and he fell over, the young tractor driver scalded with boiling water. Tractor driver, making a face from a severe burn, started to jump from the pain, leaning on one leg, pulling air into the lungs.

- Vsss -ah-aaah! Vsss-ahh-ahhhh! Ooooohhhh!- he jumped from the stinging pain and spun like a dog chasing its tail.

Khurshida started to cry, not knowing what to do and how to calm the poor tractor driver. And workers who had already begun eating, all got up from their seats, feeling for the tractor driver who accidentally scalded with boiling water. Some laughed, especially when the timekeeper Abdelkasim cried, you take off your pants and jump right into the pond!

- Oh, excuse me, for God's sake, mister! This is all my fault!.. Badly burned?! Poor!.. I don't know Your name... what your name?.. said Khurshida, crying and circling around the guy in confusion.

A young tractor driver, holding his scalded thigh, stopped for a moment and with a grimace on his face said:

- Me? A-aaaaah- ahhhh... my name is Sultan!

-Don't worry, girl, about anything... Aa-a-ahhh-ahhh... Ahh-ahh-ahh....My leg will get better before the wedding said tractor driver Sultan, smiling through the grimace on his face, continuing to jump on one leg. Then he asked, distorting the face of unbearable pain: -And You? What's your name?

- Me? Oh yeah, my name is Khurshida.

-Very nice... Vsss-aaaaa-aah... Yyyyh! That's a beautiful name, like yourself, honestly. You, Khurshida, do not pay attention to me. Better get yourself something to eat. It"s lunch time right now... - said Sultan, continuing to rely on one leg to alleviate the pain.

- No, I will not eat. Well, how am I supposed to eat when you suffer because of me? - cried Khurshida.

Here the Sultan tractor driver stopped limping and said.

- Well, You, Khurshida, now quit crying! After all, people are looking at us. Already released the pain. Don't you worry. I have everything in order. Don"t you believe my words?.. Well, then I have no choice but to prove to you that I'm healthy as an ox.

Here look and, humming a tune, he began to dance, stamping their tarpaulin boots, as a dancer with great experience.

Sultan danced, whirling like a whirlwind and singing cheerful music. Seeing this, everyone around laughed as if the viewers who are watching a funny presentation of a wandering artist. Khurshida was also smiling through her tears, rejoicing that the Sultan let go of the pain.

2 chapter

First love

Although Khurshida with her own eyes saw the tractor driver Sultan climbed to his cultivator, went back to the side of the field, but she still could not forgive herself for what was scalded by negligence of the poor, innocent guy, drummer, mechanic of farm Tillaquduq. Poor thought only of Sultan, and she was sorry for the inoffensive, patient and funny guy. Another man in his place, thought she would be angry and maybe even hit her, or, at least, would appeal to the court with request to pay her a certain sum of money as compensation for the damage caused to his health. And he? He, on the contrary, comforted Khurshida, dancing in front of the workers of the kolkhoz who could testify in court in his favor as witnesses. He groaned and jumped from the pain, and I, the fool, asked him his name. Despite the searing pain, he said. And not forgot to make a joke, saying that his wound will heal before the wedding. And how he danced! As the American Michael Jackson, I swear! I wonder why he even works as a tractor driver when he has the talent of the artist-humorist? After all, he could open his own theater of humor and satire to make serious money. I wonder why he works as a tractor?

With these thoughts in mind, Khurshida could not sleep, listening to the ringing singing of the crickets and looking out the open window, curtained by a curtain of white tulle, through which shone round the moon and twinkle of a distant star. From afar came the tired lazy barking of dogs and the croaking of frogs in the old pond with blooming white and pink water lilies.

Khurshida decided to go in the morning on the field, where he will cultivate cotton tractor driver Sultan, to ask him again for forgiveness, and discover how Sultans leg feels, which yesterday received a burn on her fault.

Meanwhile, at the open window not a strong night cool breeze gently fluttered and slightly blew the curtain, woven from tulle resembling a sail.

Khurshida was sleepy. She fell asleep like a patient under anesthesia during surgery. She dreamed tractor Sultan, who was working on his tractor ploughing the endless and eternal sky covered with clouds .

- Hello, mister Sultan! -Khurshida said, looking up at the sky.

Hearing her voice, the Sultan looked at her and smiled, continuing to run his air-ship bulldozer in a boundless sky.

- Oh, it's You, Khurshida?! Well, how are You?! he said.

- I have Everything in order! And how are You?! Are your legs okay?! asked Khurshida.

- Nope, not sick! Last night I anointed my scalded leg with toothpaste "Blendomat", and by the morning the wound stopped hurting - it was gone! Honest mechanic! If you don't believe, I can show You the wound healed. Just a second. Here, let me take my jeans off, and You'll see this firsthand... said the Sultan.

With these words he rose from his seat and jumped on the hood of a bulldozer, moving on the balls of gray clouds. There is a tractor under his feet, famously shaken, and the Sultan nearly fell to the ground. Have Khurshida heart sank. She was so scared.

- Yes?! Well, as you wish! Watch me, I will dance tap dance! - said Sultan, without waiting for a response, and began to dance right on the hood of the bulldozer.

Sultan danced with his tarpaulin boots, like the ring of iron horseshoes hitting the hood of the tractor.

Then he suddenly lost his balance and fell from the flying bulldozer. But he managed to grab the spotlight of the bulldozer. The young tractor driver was hung and tried by all means to stay, not to fly down. Bottom Khurshida fear a little crazy is not gone. And Sultan went flying down, ploughing the clouds their ploughs.

- Oh, God save the Sultan! Hang in there, Sultan! Hold the spotlight bulldozer! I'll call people for help, and we'll work something out! Be patient!-shouted Khurshida, running here and there, but never taking his eyes off of the tractor and from the tractor of the Sultan, which hung in the sky like the great Hollywood stuntman, jumped at chassis jet bomber in the movie about the American-Vietnam war.

Then something irreparable happened: headlight air tractor came off with all the wires and the tractor driver Sultan flew down like a stone. He flew through the air with a wild cry like a paratrooper, who has a jammed chute. Khurshida fear covered her face with her hands, and in a few minutes with a crash he hit the ground, raising a cloud of dust. You should have seen how bitterly Khurshida cried hugging the body of the tractor driver poor Sultan, who fell from the sky!

- Sorry, Sultan! Oh, forgive me, for God's sake! This is all my fault! If I hadn't asked You about Your health, you wouldn't have got on the hood of your flying bulldozer that sails the boundless sky of our solar system where You tap-danced to convince me that your scalded your leg doesn't hurt anymore! - she cried, shedding bitter tears.

Here, surprisingly the tractor driver Sultan woke up.Khurshida was surprised and froze like a marble statue of Aphrodite.

- Well, You're roaring again, like a little girl in kindergarten, dear Khurshida? Would you please stop crying.I'm alive and healthy as an ox. If you don't believe, I can get up and dance tap dance - said Sultan. And rising, he again began to dance, circling like a whirlwind.

She woke up, like a patient after a successful operation. Realizing, finally, that all this happened in reality, she breathed a sigh of relief and thanked God. She was delighted, thinking, saying as well that others will not see the dream that she dreamed. When she stood up, and opened the curtains, looked out the open window, she saw the morning sky, like a furrow.

After breakfast, Khurshida went to the field, eager to meet the tractor driver Sultan to know about his health. But, unfortunately, she found that the tractor of Sultan. She was worried, thinking, what happened with him? Maybe his leg at night got swollen due to the fact that he danced to appease me? Poor Sulton! Well, what am I so careless and clumsy. Maybe he was up all night in pain and writhed in pain, and his parents called an ambulance at midnight. Then the doctor gently laid him on the stretcher, drove him to the hospital? Maybe he was lying and groaning still from the pain, and he has already begun gangrene? Who knows, the doctors might amputate his leg to gangrene not surprised the weight of his body. The horror! A young guy in the Prime of life because he became disabled for life? Really now, Sultan will move with crutches and walk on four legs? Maybe the district social service will provide a free wheelchair with the wheels of a bike, and he will travel by spinning the wheel by hand, he could have fell on the side and in a ditch? Or maybe he already died on the operating table and the surgeon wearily taking off his mask, told his family the terrible news that they have done everything that depends on them, but, alas, could not save him, as they were not able to stop the gangrene. Maybe siblings of Sultan crying over his body, took him home and buried? Who knows, maybe now his mother, crying in a loud voice, curses Khurshida because she was scalded by her son, who died on the operating table surgical Department, tormented in hellish pain? No, no, no. God grant that the Sultan everything was in order, she prayed.

Although Khurshida mentally tossed in the assumptions, she also hoped that Sultan with the sunrise appeared in the cotton field on his tractor.

Finally the sun rose, and she saw in the distance, in the cotton field, the familiar tractor driver Sultan, happily smiled. Her eyelashes trembled again and tears welling joy like dew on a morning rose. Leaving his hoe, Khurshida ran down the path, with the two sides overgrown green lush grass, in the direction of the cotton fields, where Sultan worked on his tractor. She ran like a girl on the platform, which runs struggling to meet with the dearest person in the world. And Sultan at this time happily glided over the cotton field, kicking up dust and taking a large flock of swallows.

When Khurshida came closer to the tractor, from what she saw she was motionless, like a wax figure of a girl in Madame Tussauds museum in foggy London. But Sultan was not in the cab of the tractor, instead an elderly person. Khurshida wanted to ask him about Sultan, but she was afraid of her father, she did not dare to ask about what happend to Sultan, thinking that suddenly this person would tell someone about their conversation, and if it reaches the ears of her father, and it would be the end for her.

With these thoughts, Khurshida went back and began to work. Working, she thought only of the tractor driver Sultan. She wanted to see him. She felt a huge need. She began to feel that without Sultan, her life turns into an endless desert. She felt in her soul a longing for the tractor driver Sultan. She wanted to cry, loudly and bitterly. She sat, and rested her forehead on her knees, beginning to cry silently, shaking her shoulders. The tears rolled from her eyes, dripping as large drops of rain before a storm. Khurshida stopped crying only when her mother Rahila came to help. Hearing the crackling of brushwood, where her mother walked, Khurshida raised her head and hastily wiped the tears from her eyes on the hem of the dress.

- What's wrong, daughter? Why do you have tear-stained eyes. Are you sick?

Oh, you naughty girl! How many times have I told you to have a breakfast in the morning. And you? You eat very thin. Sometimes, don"t even have Breakfast, and you run to work. And here is the result, now, perhaps, you have a headache or a stomachache. Looks like you've lost weight recently. Like a model on a diet. So it is impossible. Well, okay, you go home and take a day off, my lovely. And I'll work here - Raheela said, hugging her daughter and stroking her head.

- No, mom, I don't want to go home. And the headache is gone. I have everything under control, don't worry ' said Khurshida. After that, they began to work together, knocking hoe, leveling the soil in the stony field.

3 chapter

Mystery

Khurshida with her mother worked at the spring field silently, leveling the ground for planting cotton. When the heat became unbearable, they moved to the edge of the field to be saved from the heat under the shade of mulberry trees, where was a irrigation ditch, reshaping its course. After a little rest, they again set to work. And so to lunch. When the cook Tubo, standing on the hill began to entice people to lunch, they were suspending the work, went to the side of the field mill. Walking along the trail, Khurshida looked longingly at the sultry cotton fields where the tractor driver Sultan worked. She did not want to go to the camp and eat anything. But coming closer to the field camp, she saw Sultan, and for a moment stood rooted to the spot, not believing her own eyes. Her heart was beating fast from excitement. She ran along the path ahead of her mother, stumbling and falling. Indeed, the tractor driver Sultan stood in line for boiling water as yesterday, holding his mug.

- What's wrong with you, daughter? Do not rush! You must be very hungry. I told you this morning that you had to have Breakfast properly. And you didn't listen to me. Let this be a lesson to you ' said Raheela.

- Yes, mommy, you're right, Khurshida said, without taking her eyes off Sultan, which became her most precious person in the world. The run to the field camp, she again felt the pleasant smell of acacia blossoms. The first thing Khurshida took her mug and hurried to the side of the tin samovar, where the tractor driver Sultan stood in line. When she came closer to the Sultan, he immediately noticed her and turned his face to her and smiled warmly:

- Oh, I see, who-Oh-Oh I see! Hello, Mademoiselle Khurshida, how are You doing? - he said.

-Thank you, mister Sultan, I'm good. And how are You? No pain in your leg?

-Khurshida asked quietly, looking to Sultan from the bottom up, and blushing deeply.

- I have it all together, as they say, the glory of the Almighty God. After yesterday's incident, my foot was still healthy. If you do not believe my words, I can tap-dance - said the Sultan, ready to dance.

- No, I believe you - said Khurshida.

- Why not? What, am I a bad dancer?

- Noo, you are a great dancer. That's why I'm careful not to jinx - explained Khurshida smiling.

- Yes? Well, then I won't dance - obeyed the tractor driver Sultan.

- I again beg your pardon, Sultan, about that burn yesterday. I spent the whole night worried about You and, in the morning, eager to find out about Your health, I ran in the cotton field, and before you know it, You were not there. It works the other tractor, an old man was in your tractor. I was scared, I thought that you turned gray and aged with grief and pain on your leg after I scalded you with boiling water. And I was afraid that you were mad at me for life, never coming back here. Thank God, everything went well - said Khurshida, a sigh of relief.

- Yes, I have changed fields. I now work in another field. Over the poplar grove - said the tractor driver Sultan.

- Me and my mother worked on the other field, where the tractor can not drive. We are there leveling the ground manually - explained Khurshida.

- A family business, I mean - said Sultan. And she added:

- Here is our turn. Give me Your mug. I will turn the samovar, and You'll be careful... - said the tractor driver Sultan.

Khurshida laughed.

- No, not that. It is not necessary. And Your service is very costly for both of us, especially You - she said, hiding her mug behind as a little girl and smiling.

- Oh, Yes, of course. It seems to me that there is no need to tilt the samovar, the tap is fixed, in my opinion - said the tractor driver Sultan. With these words they poured the boiling water and dispersed. After lunch,Khurshida cheered up and worked from the heart, singing songs about love. Seeing the positive changes in the mood of his daughter, Rahila was happy.

- You ate and you got better again - she said.

- Yes, you're right, mom - smiled Khurshida and her thoughts about funny tractor driver continued to work. But in less than an hour, it started to torment a longing for the Sultan. She wanted to go on the field for the poplar grove, where he worked to see the tractor driver Sultan again, to talk with him. Then she thought, about telling the truth to her mom. After much deliberation she decided to tell her everything.

- Mom, can I ask you a question - she said.

- Yes, dear, of course. What is the question?

- The fact that... But I don't even know how to explain it. And you might not understand me and get mad at me.

No, no, honey, just ask your question and don't be shy.

- Tell me honestly, mom, have you fell in love with someone? If so, tell me about your love, please. I am very curious. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about this, I swear. You're not only my mother but also a close and loyal friend.

Hearing this from her daughter, Rahila and laughed loudly. Then spoke:

- Your question, is quite, silly, but I think it somehow can be answered. I don't know how to explain it. Of course, anyone who has a soul, he or she in his youth, falls in love with someone... It's... wait, Wait, why are you began to ask questions like that, huh? Are you in love or what?! Come on, tell me who you're in love with. I am your mother dear, the one closest to you. I need to know... Oh, my God, it really happened what I had feared all the time! Dear, don't play with fire. If you disgrace our family by their actions, consider that you end. Your father will curse you. And if your father find out- it will be the end for you, not only in this world but in the next world ! God will turn away from a girl whose father was cursed! A man in the next world will forever burn in a fiery hell! If your father curses you, there is no reason to live, honey. Because you're the one for me.So, tell me about it - she said.

- No well. Tell me all about it, and immediately! I'm waiting for. Who is he? Well... insisted Khurshida's mom.

I can't tell you about it, that is uncomfortable for me and embarrassed in front of you. But don't worry, mom, I just met him and he ever touched me. That is, nothing happened between us. Believe me, I swear - she unconsciously revealed the secret Khurshida.

- Who is he? - Raheela asked again, as if the investigator during an interrogation.

- Well, honey, how can I tell your father, if he heard about it, it would make a scandal - said Raheela.

- Okay, mom, I will tell you. Because for me you are the closest person in the world - promised Khurshida.

And began to tell:

-His name is Sultan. He is very good, nice and a funny guy. Running a tractor over the poplar grove. You should have seen how he dances! Just like Michael Jackson. And he is also a humorist. Tells such funny stories, that after listening to him, you can die from laughter.

- Yes? - said Raheela and from weakness sat down, clasping her chest, which was pounding her heart.

Khurshida was frightened and bewildered, began to help her mother.

- Mom, what's wrong with you? Don't scare me! Oh, please... Oh why did I even told you all of that. I could have kept everything to myself. I just wanted to fulfill your request. I couldnít hide the secret from you, mother, my dear! - cried Khurshida.

Raheela also cried, tightly hugging her daughter.

- I understand you, daughter. I am just afraid, something might not be fixable among you? That's what worries me. I want you to be happy. Well, good thing you love him. And he? He loves you? Are you sure that your tractor driver will not leave you and, in the end? Moreover, the tractor driver could be uneducated. Does he understand at all what love is? Maybe he is addicted to alcohol, like your father? One alcoholic is enough in our family, and I don't want to aggravate the grief. Maybe he smokes marijuana? You should first check to see if he gambles? Who his parents were and where he lives? And I'm afraid if your father will let you marry him or not - cried Raheela.

- Mom, believe me, I'll be very careful in dealing with this guy. I know if I'm overstepping my bounds, my father would never forgive me and will not leave you alone. I don't know how to explain this to you. Well... long story short, I can't live without him. I fell in love...Help me, mom! -roared Khurshida hugging her, and they wept together.